December Prompts
by Sci-Fi Noises
Summary: A series of drabbles; Itty Bitty Festivities prompts from /r/fanfiction. Will most likely remain Faramir-centric, and should stay relatively wholesome. Some Faramir/Eowyn, some Faramir/Aragorn.
1. Traditions - Light Festival

**A/N** : Written for the Itty Bitty Festivities December Prompts from /r/fanfiction!

" **December 1: Traditions**  
Think of your favorite holiday tradition (for any holiday) and translate it into the world of your story or finagle it into working with your characters. (500)"

* * *

Minas Tirith was a magical place once the snow began to fall.

During the winter, as the days became shorter and the nights longer, people would place candles in their windows earlier and earlier. To make the city more festive, people began to put colorful pieces of glass in front of each candle, creating a rainbow of colors throughout the city. As more people did it, it became a much anticipated event, and it became more and more elaborate. Houses higher up in the city and houses with many windows began to organize their lights to create patterns, rows of windows creating simple images and shapes. The city would shine bright during the wintry nights, and the lights would illuminate the snow that rested on the window sills.

Faramir had always enjoyed walking around with his big brother, taking it all in and imagining that they were living somewhere magical. In his mind, Elven cities would have a similar aura. There was something cozy, something comforting, about the light that shone on their faces as they roamed the streets. To him, the lights began to represent the joy that was felt during the holidays, times when he and his brother were able to spend time together away from their duties.

Unfortunately, as his father's mind began to unravel and the city neglected, the tradition had come to a standstill. Once the king was crowned and Faramir moved to his new home in Ithilien, Aragorn wrote to him letting him know that he had heard of the tradition and was determined to encourage the people's interest in it. Now that he was a father, he felt it was his duty to pass the experience on to his son - he wanted Elboron to have felt the joy of the Lights of Minas Tirith, and of course wanted to share with him as many memories of his brother as possible.

With one arm around Eowyn's waist and the other holding their toddler son, the three roamed along the streets of Minas Tirith. He supposed it was because it had been so long since he had seen the lights, but they seemed more elaborate, more colorful, than ever before. Perhaps the people were so excited to have the lights back that they took the chance to really showcase their creativity. One home had hung the candles to create the White Tree, while another had created a colored pattern so intricate it appeared woven.

As they walked, he spoke to his son of all the times he had taken the same path with the boy's uncle, pointing out houses whose lights had always been so elaborate, trying to describe to him all the different ways that they had been adorned. Several times the stories devolved into a tale of other winter time activities that the brothers had participated in. Sliding down the hills of Emyn Arnen, snowball fights in the courtyard, warming their cold and ruddy faces by the fire while drinking something warm. Boromir had always made the best hot chocolate, and Faramir had been so excited when his brother had finally revealed to him his secret ingredient.

Eowyn placed a comforting hand on her husband's arm, sensing that the nostalgia was making him greatly emotional. "Perhaps we can make it for little Elboron tonight?" she offered.

Faramir nodded, and turned towards their son. The little boy's eyes were wide with wonder, vibrant colors reflected in them.


	2. Family - Strict Parents Make Sneaky Kids

**A/N** : Written for the Itty Bitty Festivities December Prompts from /r/fanfiction!

 **"December 2: Family** Check out the page for family tropes right here and pick one that will work for you. Does mom always walk in at the wrong moment? Do we have a white sheep or a black sheep? Let us know the trope at the end." (I picked Strict Parents Make Sneaky Kids

* * *

Denethor had always run a tight ship, even before his wife had passed. His two sons had always been expected to not only show him the utmost respect, but act as the adults that he believed them to already be. This domineering personality had only become more intense once they lost their beloved Finduilas.

Dinners together became melancholy affairs, with Faramir sitting in silence as his father chastised him for every minor fault. Despite the constant devotion that their father poured over Boromir, he never came to resent his brother. The two became only closer over time, because they had to stick together as their father's mind unravelled.

When they weren't under the leery eye of their father, the two found whatever private activities that they could keep between them. Sometimes they would sneak through the bushes into a hidden courtyard they had found, or they would slip away and explore the tiny alleys that wound throughout the city. By far their favourite secret though, was the restoration of their mother's private sitting room.

It had always been a place of comfort for them, sitting with her next to the fire during blistery, cold nights and listening to her voice as she shared with them all her wisdom. She would alternate between stories of war and stories of old to appease each of her sons interests, holding the much smaller Faramir in her lap while Boromir sat on the floor with his head resting on her knee.

After her death, Denethor banned anybody from entering the room, leaving the boys with one less artifact of their mother's memory. Eventually, as his mind warped, he seemed to shove the memory of her room away. For five years the room lay locked away, until the brothers were able to lockpick their way in, figuring the risk of being discovered was worth remembering Finduilas. Nudging the door open, they cringed at the loud creaking that echoed down the hall, and peered in.

The room was much different than how they remembered it: it was cold, dusty, and ridden with cobwebs. There was little to no light pouring in through the grime that covered the window panes, and the fireplace was too dirty to light. So they took it upon themselves to revitalize it to its once cozy glory. They gathered various cleaning supplies, borrowed from a trustworthy and and loving maid, and put themselves to work.

As winter has begun to roll in, they took to scrubbing away the grime from the fireplace first, wanting to be able to keep themselves from the bitter wind that beat against the shaking window panes. Once they were able to work to the sound of a crackling flame and a warmth on their bodies, they turned towards the rest of the room. Opening the windows, they would beat out the pillows, clouds of dust exploding out and drifting out of the room. They brushed the cobwebs away from the chairs, replaced the dusty candles in the candelabras, and scrubbed the windows. The room immediately became brighter and friendly once more, just as they remembered it.

After several weeks, they were pleased with their hardy work. With a strong arm around his brother's shoulder, Boromir let out a content sigh. "I think she'd be very proud of us. I wish our father would be able to understand" The younger man couldn't help to agree, as he broke away to pull a book off the shelf. It had been one of their mother's favourite.

"I think she'd like for us to read together, just like old times."


	3. News - A First for Everything

**A/N :** This one is a wee bit raunchy (but barely)

 **"December 3: News** Your MC has big news. Huge news. This is the kind of news that will rock the foundation of their life. Who do they tell first, and how? (200)"

* * *

It was clear from the way the eighteen year old boy was fidgeting in his seat that he was a million miles away.

Boromir squinted his eyes at his younger brother. He was visiting after finishing a particularly long campaign, and it had been months since the two brothers had had an opportunity to catch up. As soon as they were dismissed from the table by their father, they strolled out as casually as possible. Once the door shut, however, Faramir was nearly jumping up and down from excitement, his eyes beaming.

"I've done it," he had his chin held high. Boromir looked at him first questioningly, then he raised his eyebrows and smiled in a look of amused pride. He couldn't help but grin, knowing exactly how his brother was feeling. He was five years older, and had of course teased his little brother about when he would finally go for a good romp.

"Well, congratulations, little brother. I'd say you're a man now, and deserve a good celebration," he said, taking the young man under his arm and turning to direct them towards the kitchen. "How about we get a fine bottle and have ourselves a small little party."


	4. Decor - A Colorful Surprise

**A/N** : Written for the Itty Bitty Festivities December Prompts from /r/fanfiction!

" **December 2** : Decor Wow! Someone went really crazy with the decorations. They're everywhere. Seriously. What is going on here? (500)

* * *

It would figure that the first heavy snowfall would come down as he rode from Minas Tirith to his home. While he initially had pushed his horse on as best he could, it didn't take long for the snow to come up too high for that to be possible. But finally he made it to the gates of Emyn Arnen, and he was grateful when he dismounted and the stable hand came running to him.

"You look a little cold, my Lord."

The Prince of Ithilien suppressed an eye roll, passing his horse over. "Yes, thank you, Suilon."

He shivered slightly, running his fingers through his damp hair. Oh, how he couldn't wait to cuddle up to his beautiful wife next to the fire. He imagined them sitting next to the fire with little Elboron, hot chocolate in their hands and him reading to his family. The image warmed his heart and quickened his step. Before seeking out his family though, he decided it would probably be for the best for him to change into something dry. No need catching his death over something as little as a ride home.

Faramir made his way through the door of their home, striding towards the gallery that would lead him to the bedrooms. From down the hall he could hear the jolly laughing of their four year old son, as well as the chatter of Eowyn and her ladies. Oh, a quick detour wouldn't hurt. Beside, he had been gone for several weeks to assist the King in a particularly grueling negotiation and he had missed his family terribly. So he followed their voices, down the gallery where at the end he took a left. In front of him were the large doors leading to the great hall. He pushed the doors open and expected nothing more than a gracious hug and a kiss on the cheek from his family.

What he got instead was quite startling. Apparently his little family had gotten a little bored while he was gone.

The great hall had always been a tastefully decorated room, if not a bit dull. No one had lived in it while the Steward's family had resided in Minas Tirith, and they had never quite gotten around to completely reviving it. Apparently Eowyn had taken it upon herself to start the renovations.

Across the windows draped a most garish valance, with matching curtains dropping all the way down to the floor, where they piled messily. Several tapestries had been hung on the walls, apparently imported from Rohan due to the equine-related illustrations. That wasn't inherently bad, but whoever the artist was appeared to take some artistic license for the colors. Of course, they didn't match the curtains. Last but not least, there was the problem of the knick knacks that cluttered several shelves as well as the fireplace mantle.

His delighted family ran towards him, Eowyn throwing her arms around his neck and Elboron running to clamber into his arms. She lay a kiss on his cheek and beamed at him.

"I see you decorated while I was gone?"

"Yes! Isn't it fun?"

All he could do was force a smile and kiss her back.


	5. Serendipity - Long Night

**A/N:** if you want to read some slash into this, feel free to!

" **December 5:** Serendipity Even when things are rough there are beautiful moments of serendipity when everything just clicks into place for a wonderful moment. (300)"

* * *

It occurs to Aragorn late one night, when he finds himself puffing away at his pipe outside of the White Tower, just how important the Prince sitting next to him was.

Faramir had been hunched over a desk alongside him, pouring over maps of the region, trying to decide the best plan of action. Easterlings had begun to pour in through the mountains, moving in on the Anduin; they had already ransacked one village, but then retreated back to hiding. So the two men had counseled with others, and when no clear decision could be made, they had retreated to the King's study. The hours bent over would have been unbearable had the Steward not been there.

Aragorn was more keen on tracking enemies than being tied up in bureaucracy. When his eyes began to cross and his head hung wearily, Faramir would leave and return with a warm cup of mead and a small treat. When the he had begun to think circles around himself, Faramir would point out some previously unseen piece of information, or a part of the region he was personally familiar with.

It was Faramir that had insisted they take a break and let the cool breeze of the fall evening clear their heads. When had it gotten dark?

For a moment, Aragorn feels the tension fall away from his shoulders. It was obvious that he could not have found a better man for the job; although Boromir had eclipsed his brother in the eyes of their father, Faramir's thoughtfulness had proven to be key in stately matters. He claps a strong hand on the man's back.

"You should know how much it means to me that you came here to help, _mellon nín._ "

Faramir smiled bashfully. "Well, it is my duty to my king and my friend."

Aragorn chuckles, smiling around his pipe.


	6. Culture - A Ranger Holiday

**"December 6: Culture**  
A close friend or family member wants to share an important tradition with your MC. One from a culture or time they aren't familiar with. (300)"

* * *

Aragorn had promised Faramir that the two of them would get to take a much needed holiday. As soon as court had been dismissed for the season, they put together their packs and headed out into the freshly fallen snow, leaving as the sun ascended from under the horizon.

Behind them was a trail of hoof prints and in front of them was a smooth, white stretch of land, only the mountains visible in the distance. They had a day's ride ahead of them, but they rode leisurely, falling deep into conversation. Aragorn had promised to show his Steward something that he had cherished, leaving Faramir confused as to what secrets the forests held for him.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached their destination: a forest area to the west of Anorien. The forest was turning to twilight when Aragorn stopped them and had them set up camp; he began to speak in a soft tone, ripe with nostalgia.

"I want you to find the best tree you can."

Faramir looked at him with a raised brow.

"Just look at the trees around us and pick one that you like."

He thought about inquiring further. What exactly did they need it for? But instead he glanced around, and picked one that he thought looked the finest. The dark needle leaves sat in stark contrast to the snow that it sprang out of, and Faramir could appreciate its fullness.

"I suppose this one is quite nice."

Aragorn nodded, a finger curled in front of his mouth while he appeared to scrutinize the choice. Bending down, out of his pack he began to pull out a handful of colorful trinkets: beads, woven shapes, and pieces of framed glass, all hung on pieces of twine.

"I'm going to show you how Rangers make do during Yule. Here. They're from Imladris."

Faramir took the ornaments, smiling bashfully, and following suit as Aragorn began to hang them around the tree.

"It was always nice to be able to carry a little bit of holiday cheer with you, even if you couldn't stay somewhere for long."

The light of the fire danced upon Aragorn's soft smile, a smile that Faramir returned.


	7. Peace - Rebuild & Repair

" **December 7: Peace  
** In 50 words or less write an emotional work that shows the word 'peace'. Don't use the word in your story! (50)"

* * *

With the King, Minas Tirith would rebuild. Wall would be fixed, streets repaired. Faramir had lost the people he loved, but he would come to accept it and repair his broken heart. With his King, he would rebuild.


	8. Favourite Moment - Gift Giving

" **December 8: Favorite Moment:**

Think of a favorite moment between you and your family (chosen family works). Now translate that into the world of your characters!"

* * *

Two families sat around the fire, a plethora of gifts spread out around their feet, two small children sitting in the middle. Their eyes were wide with excitement and they could barely sit still.

"Oh, I wish they would hurry!" exclaimed Elboron with a huff, throwing himself back onto the ground.

"The snow is coming down hard. Have patience, little Lord," said the King as he put more firewood into the crackling flames. His voice was stern but gentle.

Faramir rested in a large chair, Eowyn on his left and Arwen on his right. The women were chattering excitedly to themselves, doing their best to not interrupt the Prince's reading. Aragorn planted himself down by the two little boys, one leg crossed over the other. The King of Rohan and his family were to have their holiday at Minas Tirith, and unfortunately the blustery weather had delayed their journey.

Just as the boys could hardly wait a moment longer and were about to beg to at least open one present, the door to the hall flew open and three people came striding in. Eomer, carrying several boxes in a stack, walked side by side with Lothiriel, who carried their young child. He nearly leapt from his mother's arms to great the two boys, who he tackled to the ground.

"Brother!" exclaimed Eomer, pulling Faramir into a tight hug. The older man grinned widely, despite nearly being crushed by burly arms. While Eomer would never replace Boromir in his heart, Faramir felt blessed to be able to consider him family. "I have brought more things to add to the festivities."

The greetings delayed the little boys' opening of presents, which only worked to agitate them more. None of them could hold back any longer and finally begged their parents to let them start the most anticipated part of the night.

"I suppose it would be torture to make them wait any longer!" exclaimed Eowyn, clasping her hands together. "Let's begin! We'll all open our presents one by one, starting with the youngest."

So Aragorn, already seated on the ground, took it upon himself to take charge of handing out the gifts. Each present was neatly wrapped in colorful paper, with the intended recipient's name scrawled on an attached piece of paper. Starting with Elfwine, the little family opened each of their presents. The children received various toys, including hobby horses from a craftsman in Edoras and little wooden soldiers from Minas Tirith, and various 'grown up' garments. The adults received their own suitable, finely crafted gifts: books, clothing, jewelry, weapons. There were also shared gifts for each family. Arwen and her elven ladies had woven elaborate tapestries for the households of Edoras and Emyn Arnen, Lothíriel had personally stitched six decorative saddle blankets, and Eowyn had worked personally with typographers and bookbinders to create four exquisite journals.

As the gift giving died down, the family of nine rested in front of the fire, catching up. The children were satisfied with their gifts, immediately going off to play. That left the six adults, all of whom had lost family as a result of the war. So, they had made their own, and moments like watching the children open their gifts brought them even closer together.


	9. The Holidays - Under the Mistletoe

"December 9: The Holidays

Check out this page on Holiday Tropes and pick one that will work with your characters. (I picked Under the Mistletoe)"

* * *

The Citadel was smothered in decorations, everyone had begun to collect gifts for their loved ones, and the holiday cheer was upon them. Except for the people of more elevated positions. Courtiers and government officials were in a flurry to complete treaties, replace retired captains, disperse funds. And so it was that the King and his Steward were making their way from the counsel room and to the King's private study, speaking in hushed whispers. Aragorn rubbed his temples with his fingers and Faramir did his best to try and reassure the flustered man.

"If it makes you feel any better, you only have to deal with this for three more days." He tried to throw the man an encouraging smile, but all Aragorn did was let out an aggravated sigh.

"And I wish I had a week!" A guilt of look crossed his face. "I'm sorry, this isn't your fault."

"Oh, it's ok. Those men can be quite obnoxious." He gave Aragorn's shoulder a squeeze, noticing how tense it was. Understandably so, he noted.

Right as they were passing the threshold towards the heavy wooden door, Faramir happened to glance up and there he spotted it: mistletoe. It had been a tradition brought to Minas Tirith by Findiulas in order to bring a little cheer and whimsy as the shadow of Mordor encroached on her city, and it had caught its fair share of unexpectant victims.

"Ah! Aragorn!" He exclaimed, grabbing the man by the crook of his arm.

The King turned towards him with a look of alarm. "What? What is it?"

Faramir pointed upwards. Aragorn's confusion deepened, furrowing his brows. He looked towards the offending piece of foliage, and rolled his eyes.

"Please, Faramir, I don't have time to worry about silly traditions." He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he let out a sigh.

Faramir looked hurt. "But we must abide by my mother's traditions!"

Aragorn, eyes closed, stood for a moment. Then, dragging down his face, glanced around to check to see if there were any prying eyes, leaned in towards his steward, and planted a quick kiss on the man's cheek.

"Are you happy now? Can we please continue?"

Faramir snorted lightly, opening the door with one arm and a haughty grin. "Yes, my lord, I am. And yes, we may."


End file.
